even if not a complementary one!
I first saw him across the rooftops from the canteen in the first building I worked in and at first glance I thought it was Nelson I could see, but quickly realised it wasn't and went in search of him
The column is in memory of the Duke of York, the second son of George III and stands at the top of the Duke of York steps overlooking the Mall.
He was, it's said, his father's favourite son but remained, however, somewhat in the shadow of his flashy elder brother, George, Prince of Wales, especially after the latter became Prince Regent due to the mental incapacity of the King.
As many aristocratic sons did, he made a career in the army and in 1793, the Duke of York was sent to Flanders in command of the British contingent and as a result, his father promoted him to the rank of field marshal, and then Commander-in-Chief. So no nepotism there then!
His arrival at his second field command coincided with a number of disasters befalling the force, and as these military setbacks were inevitable given the Duke's lack of combat experience, the lamentable state of the British army at the time and the intervention of pure bad luck during the campaign; the Prince is perhaps unfairly, pilloried for
all time in the rhyme...
...The Grand Old Duke of York,
The grand old Duke of York,
He had ten thousand men.
He marched them up to the top of the hill
And he marched them down again.
And when they were up, they were up.
And when they were down, they were down.
And when they were only halfway up,
They were neither up nor down.
Particularly unfair, as given his experience of the poor performance of the army in Flanders, he carried out many significant structural, training and logistical reforms during his service as the army's commander-in-chief. These reforms contributed to Britain's subsequent successes in the wars against Napoleon.
Another change he made, and one closer to the heart of many a squaddie was the introduction of "Beer money". The nickname was given to an allowance, started in 1800, that was given to non-commissioned officers and soldiers. Actually it was only a penny per day and was a replacement for a daily issuance of beer or spirits while troops were on home
service. The allowance continued until 1873 when it was rolled into the soldier's daily pay. So nothing extra in fact and one wonders if the penny would cover what the soldiers would actually spend on beer in a day!
When he died in 1827, the entire Army gave up a day's wages in order to pay for a monument to the Duke. Accounts vary as to how voluntary this was but that was the source of the money used to raise the column which was started in 1833 and finished a year later. Inside the column is hollow and a spiral staircase of 168 steps leads to the viewing platform around the base of the statue. This however has been closed to the public for many decades. Though was once open in the afternoons for entry on payment of a fee.
The great height of the column - 123 feet 6 inches (37.64 m) - caused wits to suggest that the Duke was trying to escape his creditors, as the Duke died ￡2 million in debt. (An enormous sum in 1827! )Though I have also heard it said when Nelson's column was built the Navy insisted his column had to be higher as befitted a member of the senior service.
The stonework was designed by B. Wyatt in Aberdeenshire granite, the Tuscan column is topped by the statue of Duke of York in the robes of the Order of the Garter, sculptured in bronze by Sir Richard Westmacott RA it weighs in at well over 7 and half tons!!
Well, there he stands still, walked past by many who know little of him, and yet who know the rhyme belittling him. Sadly forgotten though maybe with his reforms, as important in his own way in beating Napoleon as either Nelson or Wellington. The grand ol' Duke of York, appropriately, at the top of his own little hill of steps.
Laurie Smith
Found this On Londonist - http://londonist.com/2016/01/electric-lighting
ReplyDeleteThe lighthouse of the West End
December 1848
Vast crowds gathered in the gas-lit streets of St James's. They waited in drizzle, expecting a dazzle. High above, on the Duke of York's column, an electric light flicked into action.
M. Le Mott was back. Fresh from the success of his Paddington experiment, the radiant adventurer was now poised 100 feet above The Mall. His powerful lamp was positioned on a balcony beneath the feet of the Grand Old Duke of York. The Times described how its beam illuminated the streets below:
The potency and purity of the electric light may be inferred from the circumstance that when cast upon one of the neighbouring club houses, it distinctly showed to spectators, at some considerable distance, the red colour of a shawl worn by a lady in the balcony.
Bystanders watched in awe as the lambent gas lights were deleted by the glare from the Duke of York's lofty perch. It was as though a lighthouse had been positioned in the centre of London.